


Protocol

by Exxact



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Basically Carol in Space, Dom/sub, F/F, F/M, Lothal, M/M, Multi, Older Woman/Younger Woman, Oral Sex, Power Imbalance, Power Play, Praise Kink, Pre-Rebels, Rating is for second chapter content, Seduction, Slight humiliation kink, Strap-Ons, Uniform Kink, star wars femslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-09 00:32:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15255459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Exxact/pseuds/Exxact
Summary: Tua smiles gratefully, watching as Pryce removes her gloves.  Instead of the frustration such condescension from anyone else would evoke, she instead feels a rush of heat centering far lower than her cheeks.  Her restaurant selection, her uniform, her speeder—all of it represents the power that Pryce wields in a fashion nearly as intoxicating as the woman herself.Pryce takes a more delicate sip of pulkay, their eyes locking.“I nearly find myself missing your idle babble in the speeder,” she says lightly, warmth underlying every word.A dinner invitation from Governor Pryce results in a thrilling night for Minister Tua.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an extension of an Imperial March prompt from 2017, but enough context is provided here for it to stand alone.

 

“You stupid thing! You’re about to ruin my night!”

 

Tua sighs in irritation for seemingly the thousandth time at an errant section of hair. First her shift ran an hour past its end thanks to that conduct meeting, and now her hands are shaking too much to restyle her chignon. Pryce is due any moment and truly, it will be an utter miracle if this evening doesn’t go up in flames!

 

The chime of the apartment’s intercom is nearly a relief. She rushes down the stairs, congratulating herself on her decision to wear flat boots. Minus their outer covers, her standard ones would serve, but the rest of her uniform had been forgone in fear of appearing underdressed. Instead, she had settled on the dress uniform given to her on her anniversary of service by the Citizen’s Council—a navy blouse and white leggings topped with an embroidered jacket cut on the bias that emphasized the length of her legs.

 

“Thank you again for your invitation,” Tua says prematurely, barely making it onto the sidewalk before noticing that Pryce has been watching her from the driver’s closed side.

 

Pryce’s smile is sharp as the door closest to Tua hisses open. “I heard nothing of your greeting, but I presume that you were thanking me for extending this invitation.”

  
  
Tua nods, her heart quickening when she realizes that she is riding in Pryce’s personal speeder. “Yes, Ma’am. It was very gracious of you to ask me to accompany you to J’la this evening. I must confess, I haven’t been there in years.”

 

Pryce takes off cleanly, entirely focused on merging into the late-evening traffic. _Say something witty_ , Tua commands herself. _Make her enjoy your company_.

 

“I apologize for any dishevelment in my appearance. Supply Master Georg requested that I arrange a conduct meeting immediately with my assistants. Why, he even told me that it was because some of those disruptor rifles were unaccounted for—the newest models, no less! Do you think it could be the former Governor’s doing? My, if he escaped, everything could be ruined!”

 

Pryce does not acknowledge her, instead pressing one of the speeder’s com link functions. Tua feels her chest swell with panic. _Not even two minutes in and you’ve proven yourself a backwater dolt!_

 

“Lieutenant Veris, find Supply Master Georg and inform him of his immediate discharge and arrest. I will interrogate him myself tomorrow morning.”

 

Tua lets out a gasp. “Arrest?! He wasn’t committing treason—he was simply confiding in me!”

 

Pryce stiffens, intently looking out upon the city. “If he was not capable of instilling proper watch over the rifles, then he is effectively aiding these thieves. We cannot be too vigilant about potential moles within the Complex’s ranks. Do you question my decision?”

 

“Of course not, Governor!” Tua says, smiling as though to reassure herself of her answer. “You know, it was Aresko and Grint who trained him—I don’t even know why he thought to speak to me! I suppose it could be because I aided him during last month’s outage—he lives in the apartment directly beneath mine. Why, he probably watched us depart just now!”

 

Pryce frowns deeply at Tua’s outburst. “ _Aided_ him, did you?” she mutters, turning onto a quieter street.

 

Tua shifts, re-crossing her legs and summoning her composure. “Yes—his younger sister hadn’t arrived for her visit and he needed to contact her. I allowed him use of my comlink.”

 

“How generous of you,” Pryce replies flatly.

 

Tua takes a deep breath, realizing that she has just confessed to utilizing her com link for little more than a social call. However, Pryce says nothing more about it, apparently occupied by navigating them into the line of speeders idling outside of a sleek building. Pryce gets out, immediately replaced in her seat by a valet droid. Tua leans over to manually open her door, causing her to nearly collide with Pryce.

 

“The inner handle sticks.”

 

Pryce helps Tua straighten herself before leading them inside, even offering a beaming Tua her arm once she is upright again. _She smells like tobacco and almonds_ , Tua thinks hazily, suppressing a noise at the thought of every one of the patrons in the line that parts for them noticing the gesture.

 

In the moments before their serving droid arrives, Tua is granted her first full glimpse of Pryce unobscured by the dimmed light of the speeder. She is dressed in her uniform, of course, though Tua decides that her boots are polished just the slightest bit more flawlessly than usual, her trousers ironed even more precisely beneath the cover of her matching overcoat. Her hair is smoothed against the curves of her cheekbones, as sleek as a helmet. Tua had decided upon first seeing her that Pryce was simply the most _striking_ woman she’d ever met, far surpassing the soft beauty or the red-blooded chivalry of the girls at the Academy who had bothered to look her way.

 

“Governor Pryce, my warmest welcome. I have been programmed to understand that your guest tonight is ‘Maketh Tua’?”

 

Tua does not bother to hide her displeasure at the droid’s informality. “‘Minister Tua’.”

 

“Minister Tua,” the droid chirps with what, to her, sounds suspiciously like indignation.

 

“Show us to our table,” Pryce says quickly, allowing another droid to remove her overcoat. Tua reaches for her absent helmet before shyly putting her hands down, still distracted by the droid’s _obvious_ mockery of her.

 

“Right this way, please.”

 

Tua’s irritation fades once they are led into the restaurant proper. She has been to J’la once before as a reward for her acceptance into the Academy from her parents, who remain firmly middle-class. Of course, it has been remodeled since then, taking inspiration from the design of the nearby Imperial Complex rather than the icy blues and purples of the spires that dot the plains beyond the city. Tua’s eyes rake hungrily over the ambient simplicity, and for a moment, she can almost believe that she has been transported to Coruscant. Belatedly, she notices Pryce’s eyes upon her and recovers her indifference.

 

Pryce’s voice is low, nearly sultry. “Your awe was rather charming.”

 

As Tua had expected, the droid seats them far from the entrance in a private room, the spire cross-sections that had stood guard before replaced with lean, sweeping duristeel. Tua is loathe to let go of Pryce’s arm when they are seated, though she slips her hand away without fuss to smooth her jacket around her.

 

A bottle and two glasses have already been set upon the table, which Pryce inspects before handing to a frowning Tua.

 

“Do you dislike spiced pulkay?”

 

“I’m unfamiliar with it,” Tua admits, gritting her teeth at her own ignorance. Her grandmother’s tolerance had barely extended past the time it took her to finish a drink, and thanks to a glass of brandy at her first Academy reunion, she’s learned that she has inherited it.

 

“I assure you, the selection here is the finest you’ll find on Lothal outside of my personal reserve.”

 

“I—I normally abstain, Ma’am,” Tua manages after a moment, looking to the serving droid as if for reassurance.

 

Pryce’s brow wrinkles, but to Tua’s surprise, she does not press her further. Instead, she pours herself a glass of the liquor, taking a deep pull from it before addressing the droid.

 

“Then bring a glass of Idlewil for me and one of unfermented blue milk for the girl,” Pryce says to it, an odd amusement in her eyes when she looks back to Tua.

 

“Yes, Governor. Right away.”

 

Tua smiles gratefully, watching as Pryce removes her gloves. Instead of the frustration such condescension from anyone else would evoke, she instead feels a rush of heat centering far lower than her cheeks. Her restaurant selection, her uniform, her speeder—all of it represents the power that Pryce wields in a fashion nearly as intoxicating as the woman herself.

 

Pryce takes a more delicate sip of pulkay, their eyes locking.

 

“I nearly find myself missing your idle babble in the speeder,” she says lightly, warmth underlying every word.

 

“I’m, well—Ma’am, I’m not sure what to say. I’d thank you again for your invitation, but then I’d be repeating myself, and really, you must hear quite enough chatter considering the latest crop of recruits we've been sent.”

 

Pryce’s lips quirk upwards momentarily before tightening in irritation at the return of the serving droid, who places their respective drinks before them. Tua looks down at her glass, warmed and trussed up with a rim of sugar. A child’s drink.

 

Pryce speaks before it can even begin to list off the nightly selection. “Bring us two specialty nerf steaks, one topped with ruica seeds and one with mild l'lahsh sauce.”

 

“Right away, Ma’am.”

 

Pryce’s shoulders relax, the earlier spark of amusement returning to her eyes as she watches Tua take her first sip of milk.

 

“Governor Tarkin always kept two nerf steaks in his conservator and a decanter of Alderaanian wine beside it. For more _intimate_ meetings, as you may have guessed.”

 

Tua blushes fiercely. She finds that she’s speechless, both at what Pryce is insinuating and the image it generates.

 

Pryce interrupts her thoughts with a knowing look. “Natasi always did appreciate my adoption of the habit, though Tarkin did not, once he learned of it. I was nothing compared to the women she dallied with, but then, he himself was not free of more…questionable partners.”

 

Tua smiles through her shock, the blue of Pryce’s eyes nearly too intense to meet. “Not including you of course, Ma’am.”

 

Pryce chuckles, smoothing a hand over her collar. “Indeed. I hardly come close to either of those two and their usual degeneracy.”

  
  
The glass of milk quakes in Tua’s hand. “Degeneracy?”

 

“Perhaps that is best left to your imagination,” Pryce says, finishing her pulkay with a frown.

 

“Oh, my apologies! I should so hate to press you for personal details, and in such a delicate setting! I’m infringing terribly upon your generosity. I hope I haven’t overstepped, Ma’am.”

 

Tua’s flurry of words seems to pacify Pryce, who leans forward slightly, as though imparting a secret. “Admiral Daala and I shared our _connection_ before she met Thalassa Motti—an old friend of Tarkin’s family, easily thirty years older than her. In fact, I do believe there was hope that she and Tarkin would give them an heir before his brother’s wife did so. After all, Lieutenant Commander Krennic certainly wasn’t going to!”

 

The serving droid returns with their meals and Pryce’s liquor, but Tua hardly notices, even as she motions for her to take her plate from it. She leans forward, nearly dousing her lap with milk, desperate for more of any of the thrilling information Pryce is supplying.

 

“What was Governor Tarkin like, when you worked with him? Did he ever host parties? What did a Lieutenant Commander do that would lead him to meet Governor Tarkin? Oh! Did you ever see him speak with the Emperor?”

 

Pryce smiles, sliding Tua’s plate to her. She watches as she takes her first bite, her teeth flashing from between her lips. Tua is rapt, existing purely in her approval and the taste of the steak, rarer and richer than any she’s had before.

 

“My dear, I still _do_ work with Tarkin,” Pryce finally says, cutting into her own dinner. “More remotely, of course, but we are in close contact. Why, who else do you presume attached a confidential message to that poster you took home?”

 

The endearment sends Tua’s pulse racing just as much as the thought of such close contact with Core Worlds power. She is desperate to hear Pryce sweet-talk her once more, but her manners silence her for the duration of the meal.

 

Once Tua has set down her knife and fork atop her half-eaten steak, Pryce takes a final sip of her Idlewil, having eaten as heartily and efficiently as Tua could only dream of doing.

 

“Finish your dinner, my dear. If not, the mynocks will have you for dessert.”

 

“Yes, Ma’am,” Tua bleats before doing as she is told. Like the milk, the phrase reminds her of a mother’s care for her daughter—except, of course, that to receive such attention from Pryce is uncomfortably pleasurable rather than irritating.

 

“Now, to see if I’ll need to put a blaster bolt through that valet droid…”

 

Thankfully, Pryce’s speeder passes her inspection, and Tua seats herself easily within it despite the over fullness from her meal. She imagines that this is what being drunk must feel like—a strange sense of boldness, the world fuzzy and lost in Pryce’s warm, sultry presence.

 

“Well then,” Pryce says, turning to look at Tua. “Have I made my intentions clear?”

 

Pryce’s lips are smooth and plush, instantly parting into a smirk as Tua presses herself forwards atop her, crowding her against the door of the speeder. She tastes of the sour-sweetness of wine underlain by ruica seeds. Tua savors it, her eyes fluttering backwards in pleasure. She takes a deep, shuddering breath when she pulls herself away, noting with satisfaction the first rosiness she’s ever seen bright on Pryce’s cheeks.

 

Pryce’s mouth purses knowingly, sliding her fingers through Tua’s fringe. “Such an eager one,” she murmurs before bracketing Tua’s face with her forearms, pressing her against her side of the speeder in turn.

 

“Your initiative should be rewarded.”

 

Pryce threads her fingers through the top of Tua’s hair, dislodging pins left and right. As if from a distance, Tua hears herself moan against Pryce’s mouth, allowing her to slide her hand downwards to the top of her breast until she slips away to ignite the speeder.

 

_“This is fraternization!”_

 

Tua has blurted it out before she has even considered the thought, protocol having become nearly instinct after her schooling. “We’ll—we’ll be court-martialed! Did anyone see us? Oh, if one of the petty officers did, I’ll—oh, I don’t know what I’ll do!”

 

A thrilling dominance radiates from Pryce’s smile, and she slides one hand over to rest against Tua’s knee, poorly stifling her laughter as she navigates them into the line of traffic. “My dear, you are a politician recognized by the Empire, but you do not hold an official rank within its military as I do. Fraternization policies do not extend outside of it.”

 

The reflection of her wide eyes in Pryce’s insignia plaque seems to mock Tua. “I—I hadn’t thought of that.”

 

“While you were busy pleasuring yourself to my image on that poster? Of course you didn’t.”

 

Tua’s eyes widen. “E-even so—Grand Moff Tarkin! The _Emperor_! They would have our heads, surely!”

 

Pryce shakes her head, tutting slightly. “You now sit in the lap of the most powerful woman in the Lothal sector. Governor Tarkin, despite my past affairs, is hardly an enemy of mine, and the Emperor has far more pressing matters than false fraternization accusations, which, should they arise, would be treated as libel.”

  
  
The realization of how much consideration Pryce has applied to this arrangement is flattering to a degree that Tua has never experienced. She is silent for long moments, too overwhelmed with possibility for any coherent thoughts, much less words. Instead, she watches Pryce pull out onto the main street and navigate it, wearing the same intent expression she had while doing so earlier.

 

Without the traffic of peak hours, they arrive back at the complex far more quickly than Tua had anticipated. Uncertain of how to proceed, her gaze steadies upon Pryce once more, pleading for direction.

 

“Your company this evening was a pleasure. Now, shall I deposit you here before tongues wag, or would you prefer to discuss the situation further at my apartment?”

 

Tua is sure that she can hear her mother’s horrified noise through the Force as she impulsively leans forward, kissing Pryce once more. She should leave in sobbing embarrassment at the forwardness she’s shown tonight, she knows, or perhaps apologize and request a longer courtship for formality’s sake. There simply isn’t a protocol to follow now, and like a poorly-programmed droid, she feels as though she has gone rogue in search of one.

 

“A surprise, to be sure,” Pryce replies breathlessly, ignoring Tua’s frustrated whine, instead steering them off the curb and in the opposite direction from J’la. “But one I am delighted to accommodate.”

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

The scent of what Tua imagines is arousal itself envelops her, a mix of spice and musk as distinctly feminine as Pryce, yet without the softness Tua has ever associated the quality with. She has seated herself primly on one of the chairs in Pryce’s sitting area, having regained her composure long enough to nod when she had offered her tea. It is tense in the most satisfying of ways to wait like this, she thinks, her eyes darting around the half-dimmed room in anticipation. To know the mechanics of what awaits her, but to allow another to control how and when it occurs.

 

Pryce emerges from the kitchen several minutes later with a glass tea service, its transparency lending it an elegance despite the handcrafted shapes of the cups and tall pot, which, much to Tua’s confusion, is empty.

 

“Place this inside the teapot and wait,” Pryce says, setting down the platter. She presses a round object into Tua’s hand that is roughly half the size of her palm. Tua does so without question, frowning when pieces of dry leaves flake off onto the tray.

 

Pryce returns within moments, this time holding a metal pitcher that matches the teapot’s silver handle. When she pours the steaming water within into it, the rounded shape blooms into a perfectly-preserved flower, tea steeping around it in an earthy, familiar scent.

 

Tua clasps her hands together, barely able to restrain herself from clapping like a child. “Oh! How lovely!”

 

“A Sachi blossom stitched inside tarine tea leaves. Quite popular on Coruscant.”

 

Pryce does not wait for the tea to steep, pouring Tua and then herself a cup, watching the flower as it bobs with even the slightest motion of her arm, her expression soft. After so many years of living on her own, Tua has nearly forgotten that the act of making tea can be anything but a morning necessity or a cushion in tense meetings with concerned landowners.

 

After a long moment, Pryce takes a sip of her tea, holding the cup through the handle as a soldier might. “I would offer you milk or honey, but I’m certain you’ll find the tea more palatable without their interference.”

 

“There was a girl, “ Tua says coyly, careful to keep her eyes downcast as she takes a far longer drink of her tea, embarrassed when she realizes that transparent cup shows just how much she’s drained. “From Corellia. At the Academy. She once said that I was as sweet as milk and honey.”

 

Pryce frowns, her eyes flickering upwards in annoyance. “A foolish compliment to dwell on. Milk spoils and honey rots teeth. Surely you’ve heard better than that.”

 

Tua sets down her now half-finished tea, her uncertain smile answer enough.

 

“Well then,” Pryce replies, her voice soft yet unmistakably commanding, “perhaps you’d benefit more from a different sort of word-play.”

 

“I—I don’t believe I follow, Ma’am.”

 

Pryce’s expression remains neutral, though her eyes flicker with a now-familiar amusement.

 

“I didn’t expect that you would. My,” she continues, pausing to take a sip from her cup while Tua’s body tenses, “I don’t think I’d have been able to resist you even if you were an officer. Polished beautifully and fresh as dawn. You have no inkling of how often I’ve wanted to gather you to me at my desk, that pretty face shoved against my insignia while I see just what’s under that ridiculous costume.”

 

Tua, despite herself, lets out a startled noise, shifting to re-cross her legs. She responds before she can stop herself, before she can register that Pryce is standing before her, positioning Tua exactly as she has just described.

 

“Why—why didn’t you ask me before? If you were—are, that is—well, _enamored_ with me?”

 

“I do not practice coercion,” Pryce says sharply, her thumbnail pressing into Tua’s lower lip. “Regardless of the finer legalities, you are still under my complete control.”

 

A shiver runs through Tua, followed immediately by a whimper. “Yes—yes, Ma’am. I serve you proudly.”

 

Pryce sneers, but the gentleness of her hand against Tua’s cheek belies her true thoughts. “Then do so now.”

 

Tua cannot bring herself to attempt seductiveness, to waste time attempting to savor the act she has spent years fixated on. Her fingers unclasp Pryce’s tunic, sliding it down to her elbows before shakily doing the same to her undershirt.

 

“Go on, girl,” Pryce growls, pressing the back of Tua’s head insistently forward.

 

Tua is all too eager to allow her mouth to meet Pryce’s skin, to let her hands cup and feel the soft, satisfying weight of Pryce’s breasts in them. She is gentle, wary of leaving marks, of marring them with anything that might clash with the pale, puffy nipples that she sucks eagerly between her lips. She draws a groan from Pryce with a particularly insistent flick of her tongue, and yet the thrill of finally being able to do so is still not enough to dull the growing panic that she has allowed all of this to progress too quickly.

 

“You like it when I order you about and treat you like the naive little thing you are, don’t you?”

 

Tua nods, ducking her head in embarrassment, slipping eagerly back into the focus Pryce’s voice provides. “Nobody has—well, usually I was the one to take control.”

 

“Not your milk-and-honey friend?” Pryce purrs, rubbing a spot at the base of Tua’s skull, smiling at her needy sound.

 

“No, Ma’am. Just you.”

 

“Enough teasing,” Pryce says, drawing her breast free from Tua’s mouth and pressing against her shoulders until Tua is kneeling before her on the floor. “You know what to do next.”

 

Tua blinks rapidly, watching as Pryce spreads her legs wide, tugging Tua between them, her cheek pressing against Pryce’s right knee. Her body thrums with anticipation, her palm still hot from where she had felt her thudding heartbeat beneath her breast. Cautiously, she runs it along the inside of Pryce’s thigh, looking up when she feels her move to refasten her tunic and adjust her belt until, save for her unbuttoned trousers and Tua pressed against her boots, she is the picture of Imperial propriety.

 

“Ma’am, if you’ll just—your hips, they…“ Tua stammers when she realizes that the waistband of her trousers will need to be tugged beneath them to grant her access to her cunt. The wriggling required on Pryce’s end is worth the awkwardness of the request, but the sight of what Pryce has been wearing underneath them all evening is the true reward.

 

Thinner than a sheet of flimsi, the black lace is supple against Tua’s fingertips, thrillingly damp when she pulls them away. The triangle of fabric thins into narrow ribbons, the shape defining the curves of Pryce’s waist and hips so perfectly when she raises her arms that Tua cannot resist sliding her hands back underneath her tunic to cup them.

 

“You’re fortunate that I’m not foolish enough to waste my time with poetry,” Pryce tuts, efficiently snapping the side straps and tossing the garment aside, her hands resting atop Tua’s. “Clearly, you require a much more _direct_ approach.”

 

Before Tua can nod, Pryce has shoved her face forward, pressing Tua’s open mouth against her shaved wetness, her nose brushing the top of her clit. Tua lets out a choked moan, prodding her tongue against it uncertainly. She slides it down lower, licking up and down beneath it, waiting anxiously for any sound of approval.

 

Pryce sighs after a moment, hooking a leg over Tua’s back and pressing the heel of her boot sharply against her shoulder blade. When she summons the courage to look up, Pryce’s smile is wicked.

 

“You’ve never done this before, have you, my dear?”

 

Tua shakes her head, wiping her mouth delicately as though it would grant her any sort of composure as Pryce tugs her into her lap. “No, just—just with my fingers. Neither one was, well—I didn’t—”

 

“Hush,” Pryce breathes against her lips. “I’ll just have to train you, then, won’t I?”

 

Tua nods, returning to her place on the floor, looking intently at Pryce spread open before her. She is hairless where Tua is trimmed, her lips more pronounced, a dark blush blooming outwards like that of the tarine blossom in the pot behind them. She presses her mouth back against Pryce’s clit, feeling it throb as warm and wet as her own does when she touches herself.

 

“Harder, girl,” Pryce says lowly, her voice catching when Tua repositions her lips, sucking it between them, her tongue struggling to gain purchase on the slickness beneath.

 

“Better,” Pryce gasps, her voice far less steady than it had been moments before. “Use your tongue, circle it.”

 

To be at Pryce’s feet, coddled and corrected in turn, fulfills Tua in a way she hasn’t felt since she was a child receiving her semester’s marks. Pryce’s hand against her cheek, her hissed breaths, the wetness sliding against her tongue as she does as she is told—all are solid, comforting evidence of Tua’s worth to her.

 

“Good. Keep that up.”

 

 _Patience and repetition_ , Tua thinks, her lips curling into a smile before she can stop them from ruining her position. Pryce does not seem to notice, however, and Tua finds herself surprised when she lets out a long, guttural moan, her body tensing. Uncertain of what else to do, she pulls back before she is trapped between the vice of her thighs, narrowly avoiding shattering the tea service in her haste.

 

“You did very well, my girl.” Pryce pants once her body has gone limp, bending down to press a kiss to Tua’s forehead.

 

“Thank—thank you, Ma’am.”

 

“You poor thing,” Pryce tuts, smoothing out the remains of Tua’s chignon as her breathing slows down. “You must be aching after all that. Let’s get you to bed.”

 

Tua whines, the brush of her legs together agonizing when she rises. Being made to walk behind Pryce, now naked from the waist down, nearly causes her to collapse on the floor, to finish herself off so that she can fully focus on what Pryce intends to do to her once they reach her bedroom.

 

“Ma’am, I’m—“ she tries, clenching her thighs together, her eyes darting in an attempt to focus on the dark, sleek decor rather than her arousal that now verges on the edge of pain.

 

“Strip and get on the bed,” Pryce replies offhandedly, slipping into what appears to be a closet, the door hissing shut behind her.

 

Tua lets out another desperate noise, her hands shaking as she undoes each button and snap on her costume and boots, pausing despite her need when she reaches her undergarments.

 

 _Whatever am I doing?_ she thinks, horrified when she feels another pulse of arousal at the obscenity of it all. Her desperation forces her past the last of her inhibitions, and soon she is naked, her hair unbound, dripping wetness onto her superior’s bedsheets.

 

Relief floods through Tua when she hears the door activate again. Pryce emerges, naked save for a blue velvet robe as dark as her eyes and similarly-colored panties that connect to an— _oh_.

 

“I trust you’ve never tried one of these either, my girl?”

 

Tua is so stunned that she nearly forgets to shake her head. Pryce is correct, of course—she’s never been particularly tempted by the idea of being taken, but the sight of Pryce walking towards her, the device bobbing along to the sway of her hips, the knowledge that she’s tasted what lies beneath it—all of it sends a rush of excitement through her.

 

“Mm, some have a strong preference for or against them,” Pryce says, pressing a teasing kiss to Tua’s lips. “If you’re very good, perhaps I’ll let you use this on me next time. Natasi always did enjoy that…”

 

Tua is nearly panting now, tentatively reaching out to stroke the head, as though its synthskin could respond to her touch.

 

“Good,” Pryce murmurs, guiding her back against the pillow, smiling when Tua brushes her hair back uncertainly, lowering her eyes and spreading her legs. “This is a rather large one, by Human standards,” she adds with a sly raise of her brows, sliding her fingers around her folds as though to test how wet she is. “But I know you can take it.”

 

Tua nods frantically, rutting against Pryce’s fingers, attempting to draw them upwards towards her clit. Pryce, however, withdraws them immediately, replacing them after a long, tense moment with the brush of the synthskin cock, dragging a frustrated whine forth.

 

“Please,” Tua whines, squeezing her eyes shut, hearing Pryce chuckle when they fly open again as she slides a finger inside of her, joined quickly by another. Finally, just as she is about to sob out another plea, Pryce moves backwards, withdrawing both.

 

“Hands and knees,” she says, pressing a button beneath the shaft, her breath hitching. Tua does as she’s told in fear of being reprimanded, her shame at exposing herself so dissipating when she looks up to see Pryce’s smug smile.

 

“You’re far too eager to take your Governor’s cock, _Minister_.”

 

Tua, incapable of further obedience, succumbs to the urge to rub her clit just as Pryce slides into her, barely able to get purchase upon herself. She is too full, the tip rubbing against every tender spot within herself, stretching her open and pounding so deeply into her that, finally, she climaxes with a final stream of wetness, her legs buckling beneath her. She is wailing, shouting, _humiliating_ herself with her desperation, and yet nothing has ever felt so satisfying.

 

Distantly, Tua feels Pryce tense once more behind her after a few more thrusts, falling down to rest for long, sweet moments pressed against Tua’s side.

 

Just as Tua has begun to slip into the haze before true sleep, Pryce rises up, arching her back in a stretch that juts her breasts forwards beautifully.

 

“Such a pity we have our shifts tomorrow,” she says, patting Tua’s bottom. “I’m sure you’re quite the amorous sleeper.”

 

Puzzled, Tua blinks up at her, unable to process more than the curve of Pryce’s breast so close to her face. She is tired and uncertain, moreso than she can ever remember being, yet lulled into comfort by simply watching her.

 

“It’s nearly 23:00,” Pryce tries again, more sternly this time. “Up, now. I’ll put the speeder on autopilot for you.”

 

Pryce ties the velvet robe around herself, slipping out of the room. Tua fumbles in the semidarkness, making sure to fasten every button in case she should run into any of her neighbors. After managing to re-lace her jacket, however, she abandons the mess of her hair, tying it loosely into a braid against the side of her neck.

 

“There we are,” Pryce says, returning with a key card and a shadowy object. “The speeder is set to depart and return at the press of this button. Deliver it to me tomorrow.”

 

“Of course.”

 

“And take this,” Pryce adds, handing her a sleek thermos. “You look exhausted enough already, but this will warm you on the ride back.”

 

Tua forgets to thank her, immediately taking a sip from the mug to delay her response, regretting it once the chocolate scorches her mouth. But what does one _do_ in this situation? Should she kiss Pryce? Thank her once more for the most thrilling evening of her life? Promise to be very good if she is allowed to stay?

 

“I…I suppose that I’ll see you in the morning, Ma’am,” she mumbles, fiddling with the loose end of her braid. “Do you think that—“

 

Pryce only allows her to fumble for a moment before guiding her once again, doubtlessly tasting herself beneath the chocolate as she kisses her deeply.

 

“My girl, I think that you should report to my office immediately tomorrow morning for a lesson in a new sort of protocol.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -The inspiration for Pryce’s tea set came from images of glass teapots with flowers blooming inside them on Amazon. I headcanon that this one belonged to her mother, though I could also picture Thrawn favoring them.
> 
> -Tarine tea is apparently Hux’s favorite drink!
> 
> -The Daala mention from the first chapter is, once edited, a little strange now that I remember never posting what it’s referencing—a fic in which Daala flirts with Thalassa Motti (Tarkin’s unhappily married wife in Legends who is also Admiral Motti's cousin). I left it in as an incentive to finish it.


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